Man's Best Friend
by SylvieT
Summary: Grissom is forced to make some changes in his life. Set between the end of season 5 and the start of season 6. GSR, and Hank.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It's just a little something to keep my hand in. It was going to be a oneshot, but I've decided to make it a little longer. I worry that if I stop writing altogether I'll never get back to it when inspiration for a longer story strikes again - if it ever does. And let's face it, I don't want to stop writing.

It's fun and light-hearted. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Man's Best Friend.

* * *

Grissom sat down at his usual spot on the wooden bench, set Hank's lead next to him, and opened his newspaper at the sports section before carefully, neatly folding the pages back and the paper in four. The crease was exact. He checked that his cell was off, and it was. One look over his shoulder told him that Hank was safe, getting himself acquainted with the shrubbery close-by.

Lowering the Cubs ball cap he was wearing over his shades, Grissom closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stretched his legs out in front of him and filled his nostrils with the scent of the bougainvillea bushes blossoming to his right. And breathing out very slowly through his mouth emptied his mind of all thoughts. Morning rush hour traffic noises receded as a profound sense of peace, calm and wellbeing permeated his entire being.

At this time of the day the park was deserted, except for the occasional runner or dog walker. The sun shone brightly overhead, already beating down onto the back of his neck despite the still early hour, and it felt good. From his vantage point, he almost could hear the buzzing of the insects feasting on sweet nectar. Until the previous month this ritual had been a rare treat, one he'd often wished he could carry out more regularly, but work had a habit of always getting in the way. Or rather, he had a habit of letting work get in the way.

Not anymore. He'd promised his doctor to turn his life around, and he fully intended to. His blood pressure was high, dangerously so. Unless he slowed down and avoided stress, ate more healthily and exercised he ran the risk of a heart attack or a stroke, kidney disease, and then what? The doctor had looked at him straight in the eyes and had asked him how soon he wanted to die.

Grissom's awkward smile had stiffened. Not quite yet, he'd answered, thinking of all the things he'd been putting off doing for too long. When after the doctor's visit he'd looked at himself, truly looked at himself, naked, in the full length mirror inside his bedroom closet, he'd seen a lonely, middle-aged man who was carrying excess baggage.

He changed his diet first, cutting back on fat, salt and meat intake, eating more fruit and vegetables. Then at the doctor's suggestion he got Hank. Having Hank to look after meant he'd had to change his priorities, rethink his lifestyle and not just his diet. It wasn't just him anymore; he was responsible for another being, someone totally dependent on him.

He'd not made the decision to get Hank lightly but, to cut back on stress, work needed to take a back seat and not be the be all and end all that it had always been. He'd not regretted his decision. Hank filled a void that up to then had been filled by work. Hank would be his salvation, but he didn't know it yet. The dog helped to take his mind off work while he was off-shift, forced him to go home on time and on long walks.

He'd only had him a few weeks, but the dog had made a difference already. The weight wasn't literally dropping off him but already he felt a little fitter and a lot more relaxed, and if he was honest with himself, less lonely too. Grissom often found himself conducting one-sided conversation with the pooch. He'd been fearful at first, scared he wouldn't do a good job looking after someone else, but the doc had been right.

Hank was his shadow, had become his loyal companion in very little time, his friend, someone who didn't judge, loved unconditionally and expected nothing in return but love and care. And Grissom had oodles of love to give and until Hank had come along sadly no one to give it to. The two of them had even taken a hike out to Mount Charleston on his day off a couple of weeks back, were now planning another one near Lake Mead. A man, his dog, and the wilderness, Grissom had thought as he'd surveyed the breath-taking red mountains stretching as far as the eye could see.

He'd changed his life around, and yet it still wasn't enough. His blood-pressure was better, but remained high, even in his downtime. But what more could he do? Avoiding stress altogether in his line of work was quasi-impossible. Unless he stopped going out in the field altogether and confined himself to the lab, which in itself would not guarantee a stress-free existence – far from it.

With a sigh, he reopened his eyes, checked on Hank who panting was lying down in the shade a little way away, and then focused his eyes on a lone jogger in the middle distance running laps around the field. The sight made him think of Sara, but he pushed the thought away. He was sure that the traumatic events of the past seven months were at the root of his health issues. Prior to that, he'd been fine.

First there'd been that business with Ecklie and grave being split up. A smaller team had meant longer hours, one shift bleeding into a second one on a regular basis until Grissom spent hardly any time at home. Then Sara was almost taken from him in front of his eyes and then Nick and he was almost blown up. His sleep was still haunted by these events and often he'd wake up breathless and gasping, disoriented and nauseous, his blood pressure through the roof.

Even now, as he sat on this bench thinking about it, he felt his heartbeat quicken anxiously. He took a few slow breaths, willing it to go back down. The jogger gave a nod as he ran past, and refocusing Grissom quickly returned the nod and his gaze to the baseball scores. Hank joined his side, lying down on the ground by his feet momentarily before going off again on another wander. Grissom wished he'd remembered to bring a ball, then they could have played fetch.

There's always tomorrow, he thought, and let out another long sigh before shifting uncomfortably on the bench. His butt had gone to sleep; it was time to leave. He was folding the paper back when an advert for a local animal shelter caught his eye. Smiling, he glanced at Hank.

"Hi Griss."

Grissom looked up and round with a start. Sara was running on the spot in front of him, a wide smile on her face. She wore wraparound sunglasses, black shorts and a red running top that clung to her sweaty chest, showing a shape-hugging sports bra underneath. She was holding a runners' drink bottle in her right hand, a white plastic one with the hole in the middle for easier gripping. Her brow shone with perspiration, and she removed her sunglasses, slipping them on top of her head to wipe at it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that had lost its shape and hung loose behind her, unruly strands of hair sticking to her face.

For a moment he could only stare mesmerised, before he remembered to talk, and even then he wasn't very eloquent. Licking his bottom lip, he pushed to his feet, had to physically stop himself from raising his hand to tuck her hair away. "Sara, what are you doing here?"

Her smile widened, and she looked down at herself still jogging on the spot. When she looked back up at him, her eyebrow was arched in a wry isn't-it-obvious? "I was going to ask you the same thing."

His shoulder lifted diffidently. "I like to come here in the morning. It's quiet, close to home." Lifting the paper in her eye line, he shrugged again.

"Me too," she said, and he wondered how come they'd never bumped into each other before. Sara stopped jogging, fixed him with a smiling stare. Her eyes flicked away from him suddenly over to Hank sauntering over, tail beating animatedly, very much interested in making Sara's acquaintance. "Hey, who's your friend?"

Grissom's smile widened pleasurably. "Sara, meet Hank, my dog."

Sara reached out her hand to pet Hank. "Your dog?" she said with surprise, glancing up at him.

His shoulder lifted again; he nodded his head.

Sara's surprise turned to a look of approval. Hank shoved his snout where it wasn't wanted and giggling Sara gently pushed him back.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said, quickly stepping forward to grab Hank's collar and gently pulling him away while his other hand stroked the dog's side affectionately. "He's still got a lot to learn."

"He's okay," Sara said, and then in a playful mutter, "He's male and called Hank. What do you expect?"

Grissom's brow furrowed in confusion, but Sara didn't give him time to fully register her words because almost immediately she crouched down to pet Hank warmly.

"Hello," she cooed sweetly, and releasing his grip on Hank's collar Grissom stared awestruck while the dog licked Sara's face enthusiastically. Sara's happy giggle warmed his lonely heart. "He's real friendly, isn't he?" she said, turning her face up from Hank's overzealous display. If only it were this easy for him too, he thought. "Did you get him at a shelter?"

Grissom gave his head a shake, refocusing. "Yeah, my doctor suggested it." Damn, where had that come from?

Sara's smile faded. She nodded her head, gave Hank a little more love. "How long have you had him?"

"Only a few weeks," Grissom replied. "We're still getting to know each other."

Nodding, Sara pushed back up to her feet. Hank shook himself, and Sara reached down to nuzzle his snout. "That explains you clocking off on time for the last few weeks."

Grissom's eyes lowered; so she had noticed then. When he looked back up, Sara's expression as she watched him was solemn, slightly wistful. Quickly, she plastered a smile on her face. "I should go," she said brightly, but the lingering sadness in her eyes made his heart ache.

Dumbstruck, he nodded his head at her.

"I'll see you then," she said, making to leave.

Speak, you dumbass. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day."

Sara swallowed and nodded again, glanced down at Hank and gave him a stroke before finally raising her hand in a small wave and walking away. Grissom stared at her retreating form as she picked up her pace and started running again, and wondered at the reason behind what he'd glimpsed in her eyes. Regret, he realised belatedly, regret and longing he himself felt. It wasn't the first time.

"I think she likes you," he said and gave a wistful sigh. Then he looked at Hank and picked up the lead and his newspaper off the bench. "Come on," he said, headed the opposite way Sara had left, "It's time to go home."

The next day Grissom returned with Hank and a hot off the press copy of the Las Vegas Sun. He resumed his spot on his bench while Hank went foraging, and began to read. He was a creature of habit, and he knew Sara was too. Dared he hope they would meet again? He was holding the paper in front of him as if reading, but his eyes weren't intent on the text. They flicked this way and that, left and right, searching. Hank came to lie down by his feet, and together they waited and waited some more, but Sara never came.

Could he have missed her, he wondered? Could she still be at the lab chasing up results? No. She'd left a few minutes before he had. Truth be told, he'd kind of been dodging her all night, pairing her with Warrick while he'd stayed behind to do paperwork. It's not that he'd purposefully been avoiding her, just that he found it hard to speak with her about matters not relating to work.

It was so hard to remain on the right side of the line, a line he could so easily, but wasn't allowed to, cross. He'd waited until he heard the guys say goodbye to her in the locker room to go in himself. Sara was putting her jacket on. She closed her locker. Their gazes met, and he smiled. She returned the smile a little diffidently before her eyes had flicked down and then back up again. He could swear something had passed between them, a silent agreement to meet at the park. Maybe he'd misread the message. It wouldn't be the first time.

It was with a heavy heart that he finally folded his newspaper and stood up. "Come on, buddy," he said, his disappointment tasting bitter in his mouth, and standing up Hank shook himself, "Let's head home. She's not coming."


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom returned to the park every day for the next week, but Sara did not. Every morning he'd sit on the bench and wait for an hour sometimes, Hank seemingly sharing in his expectancy, only to head home disappointed, downcast and wondering. She showed up for shift every night, acted like everything was normal between them and Grissom did the same, trying his hardest to keep his mask up and hide his feelings for her. It was getting harder to.

He just didn't understand why she would go as far as changing her route, her routine, in order to avoid bumping into him. And he knew she had. She must have. It was a great source of sorrow to him. He worried he'd done something, said something during that first encounter at the park to offend her, but try as he might he couldn't fathom what it was. Several times at work when they were alone he almost broached the topic – he even paired himself up with her on a couple of cases – but the words never came.

It wasn't doing his blood pressure any good though, so he decided to take matter in his own hands once and for all. He needed to mend fences, return to a status quo with her, a happy medium where they could both be themselves again. His health and wellbeing depended on it. It took ten days for him to finally muster the courage.

"Enjoy your night off, Sara!"

Grissom looked up from the case file he was reviewing, checked his watch and gave a start. It was the end of shift already.

"I will."

Quickly removing his glasses, he got up from his desk and rushed out of his office, following Sara's voice down the corridor.

"Have a good day, Griss!"

"You too, Rick," he called a little breathlessly over his shoulder, stopping outside the locker room. Sara was there, alone, changing out of her lab coat. Checking that the coast was clear, Grissom stepped just inside the doorway. His heart was beating a little too fast. "Sara, huh…" His eyes lowered uncertainly. He dug his hands deep in his pants pocket and swayed on the ball of his feet. "Come on," he told himself, "you know what to say. You've practised what to say." He looked back over his shoulder, checking for prying eyes and ears.

"You need me to stay on?" she asked, refocusing him.

Snapping his eyes back to her, he shook his head and offered a smile. "No. It's not that. I―you've got the night off tonight and…"

"So have you."

"Yes, and well, Hank and I, we're going to Lake Mead tomorrow, for the day and…we were wondering if you'd…huh…like to join us. I mean, if you're free of course."

"Oh." Sara's mouth pursed; her shoulder rose. "I don't know. I―"

"I know it's short notice," he cut in before she could refuse. "I've been meaning to…" he sighed, "ask you, for a few days now, but…" his words trailed off uncertainly. "Well, Hank and I, we'd love it if you could come."

For a moment she looked conflicted. Then she turned to her locker, took out her jacket and paused. The wait was excruciating. "Yes," she finally said, turning toward him, her reply so quiet that he wasn't sure he'd actually heard it and not just imagined it.

Shock registered first on his face, then it lit up tentatively. "Yes?"

A smile growing of her face, Sara nodded at him. "Yes."

"You sure?"

Her expression softened with amusement. "You want me to change my mind?"

"No. No." He removed his hands out of his pockets and rubbed at his face, playing it cool when really he was floating on air. He couldn't believe how easy it had been. "That's great," he said, a wide, happy smile breaking, "Hank _will_ be over the moon."

His words brought about a smile. "You want me to bring anything?"

Grissom gave his head a shake. "No. Just yourself." He paused, smiled, looked over his shoulder toward the corridor, at a loss as to go from there. "Anyway, we'll come to pick you up. How's ten o'clock work for you?"

"Ten's good."

"Great. Great." He took a step back, smiled wider, then turned on his heels hesitantly before looking back at her over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow then."

"See you, Grissom."

Grissom hurriedly returned to his office, picked up the lab budget report file needed for the meeting scheduled for five minutes ago and made his way to the first floor. Normally he'd be dragging his feet, but not today. Today he took the steps two at a time, almost skipping the rest of the way. He'd organised for Hank to stay at the sitter an hour longer, which meant that they would miss their walk to the park, but hey, she'd said yes!

When he eventually picked up Hank he could swear the dog was watching him strangely, and if he didn't know better he might even add with a questioning frown. Grissom let Hank in the car and took his place behind the wheel, all the while feeling the dog's eyes on him. Grissom glanced at him through the rearview mirror, and suppressing a growing smile started the car and set off.

"I did it," he said, smiling widely as once again he glanced at Hank through the mirror. "I asked her, and she said yes. Happy?"

Hank opened his mouth in a long, languid yawn.

With a pout, Grissom turned his attention back to the road. "You could show a little more enthusiasm. I did this for you, you know."

Hank's tail began to beat against the car seat, and he gave a yelp.

"All right, all right," Grissom said, pacifying, "I did it for me too."

Grissom drove the rest of the way in silence, deep in thought, until he turned into his street. "I hope it's not a mistake. I mean…" With a sigh he slowed down and scanned the condo's parking lot for a spot. Once parked, he turned toward Hank. "What do you think, huh?"

Panting, Hank leaned forward between the two front seats. Glancing out of the car window he gave a whine, clearly wanting to be let out.

Grissom opened his car door and stepped out, Hank swiftly following suit. "You're right," he said, "Let's just take it as it comes."

When he and Hank arrived at her apartment building the next day Sara was already waiting in the lot next to her car. Grissom parked up and Sara got in next to him, giving Hank riding at the back a warm welcome. She wore beige cargo pants that unzipped just above the knee, a plain blue tee-shirt and hiking boots and her hair down. She put a daysack by her feet and buckled up, turning her bright smile toward him.

"So where are we headed?"

"Lake Mead Harbour." It wasn't so far that the drive would take forever or too busy that they'd have to fight for a car parking space. He reversed out of the spot and joined the main road. "You want to put some music on?"

Sara's mouth pursed as she pondered her reply. "No. This is good."

They shared a look and a smile, and he nodded his head. She looked how he felt, happy, relaxed, and carefree. Let's hope it stayed that way. The drive out took just over one hour. The traffic was light, the scenery beautiful, the weather too. He couldn't ask for more. Every so often he would look over at her and smile when he found her watching him before once again refocusing on the road. Sara didn't speak, and he didn't either, simply content to have her by his side.

Grissom easily found a parking spot in the lot at Lake Mead Marina, let a grateful Hank out of the rear and opened the trunk. He transferred water and their picnic from the cooler to his backpack while Sara followed Hank to the water's edge and the boats moored there. He secured the car and slinging the bag over his shoulder met them there.

"You got everything you need?" he asked, and refocusing on him she gave a nod.

Sara slid a ball cap on her head and the three of them set off along the pebble shore in a northerly direction. As they walked and talked, Grissom bent down to pick up stones which he skimmed on the shimmering water. Every time, Hank fearlessly launched himself in the frigid water, intent on fetching the stones only to draw a blank and come back forlorn, much to their amusement.

Once again he'd forgotten to bring a ball, but Sara found a stick which she was happy to toss over and over again. It turned out that Hank loved the water, and Grissom loved watching Sara play with Hank. The dog acted with Sara as if he'd known her for ever, as if her presence there with them was an everyday occurrence, and she with him the same. It felt so natural, so normal, for her to be there and share in his downtime, in his life, just like he never allowed himself to hope it could be. If only he could suspend time.

Once again Hank bounded out of the water, dropped the stick at Sara's feet and shook himself, spraying water all over them. Sara laughed and looked down at herself dripping with water. Tail wagging Hank gave a little yelp, and patiently Sara picked up the stick and tossed it back out for him. She looked like she was enjoying herself. Then she glanced at Grissom from the corner of her eyes and moved away to sit down on a boulder. Grissom watched with puzzlement as she lowered her backpack to the ground before taking her boots and socks off, rolling up her pant legs and joining Hank for a paddle.

The look of shock that registered on her face as she first dipped her feet in made him laugh out loud. Standing her ground, she turned and cocked her brow at him, daring him to join her. His smile wide and pleasurable he obliged, much to her visible surprise. "The water's freezing," he cried, swiftly jumping back out of the water as soon as he'd stepped in.

Sara burst out laughing, a warm giggle that warmed him to his core, and he grinned at her. His heart swelled painfully. Hank returned, dropping the stick and shaking himself. Grissom moved back and cast his eyes out to the vast expanse of still water ahead. The sky was a brilliant blue, the temperatures in the high nineties, but the slight breeze blowing off the lake made the heat bearable. In the distance, colourful boats of every size gently bobbled in the breeze.

"You like fishing?" Grissom asked, keeping his eyes on the scenery.

"I've never tried it."

"Neither have I." He turned to her; she was watching him with a sad, far-away expression. "I was thinking of…you know…getting myself a rod maybe and come out here with Hank."

She smiled. "Sounds nice."

"It does, doesn't it?"

The freezing water was bad enough, but the sharp pebbles stinging the soles of his feet were far worse. Gingerly Grissom walked back up the beach and found a spot in the shade under the sparse canopy of a Joshua tree where they could share their picnic. He laid a rug down and spread the food out on it – salad stuff and sandwiches, nothing too fancy – and Sara and Hank soon joined him there.

Sara dumped her bag and boots nearby then sat down on one corner of the rug while Grissom poured some water in a plastic bowl for Hank and opened a container he'd filled with kibble. Without missing a beat Hank began to chomp hungrily on his food while Grissom held out the water to Sara and she took it gratefully.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like so I edged my bets," he said, pulling lids off the various containers as she drank. "But I remembered about the meat thing…" He looked up and met Sara's soft gaze.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, recapped the bottle and put it down near him. "Grissom, this is great. Really. You shouldn't have gone to any trouble for me."

He paused, held her gaze. "I wanted to."

Sara gave him a smile and picked up a sandwich, checking what was in it. PB&J, he hoped that was okay.

"There's cheese and tomato too," he offered helpfully.

"Thank you." She bit into the sandwich and as she chewed cast her eye out toward her surroundings. "This place is beautiful," she said, glancing at him, "I don't remember the last time I came here that wasn't case related."

"Me neither," he said.

"It's so quiet, so peaceful."

"I worried you might find it _too_ quiet."

Her smile was soft. "I like quiet."

Me too, Grissom thought, but didn't say. They shared a smile and as an afterthought Grissom rummaged in the bag for the plates and plastic forks he'd remembered to pack. Maybe he ought to invest in a proper picnic hamper, he thought idly, if he were to do this again. He placed a plate and fork near her leg and after helping himself to a cheese sandwich and some salad began to eat.

"Pickles?"

Grissom smiled. His shoulder lifted self-consciously, and laughing Sara took a pickle from the container and bit into it. Grissom could only stare fondly at her as she helped herself to some more salad and continued to eat. It was nice to see she was relaxed enough in his company to act normally.

"The other day when I bumped into you and Hank at the park," she said, and he refocused on her, "you said that you getting Hank was your doctor's idea. Is he…huh…like a special dog?"

Grissom cocked his brow. "Special like what? Like a guide dog?"

Sara shrugged. "I was thinking more like a medical response dog."

"No, he's not," he said in a chuckle, which soon died on his lips when he realised she was being serious and concerned. "Not like you're thinking." His expression turned fearful at what he was about to confess, and yet he found himself speaking the words quite candidly. "I have high blood pressure. I think it's the job to be honest, and the doc figured that getting Hank would make me re-evaluate my priorities and help lower my stress levels."

Sara held his stare. "And has he?"

Grissom pondered his reply. "Yeah, he has. He helps take my mind off stuff."

Sara gave a knowing nod. "He's your diversion."

A smile formed on Grissom's face at the reference. "Yeah."

"I run."

"I know." Hank moved closer, and instinctively Grissom's hand lifted to his side, patting and stroking soothingly.

Smiling to herself, Sara gave her head a shake.

"What is it?" he asked, eyes narrowed enquiringly.

Her eyes averted to her plate. "Nothing," she said, keeping her gaze down. Was she embarrassed? And if so, what about?

"Sara?"

She looked up, met his gaze. A smile was tugging at her lips. "Nothing really. Just…Greg had a bet going, that's all." Laughter bubbled out of her. "He thought you leaving on time was because of a girlfriend."

Should he be offended? Angry, even? Thinking of a suitable sanction for Greg? Or flattered that his team cared enough about him to notice changes in his routine? He looked away at the lake beyond, pondering the appropriateness of his next question. "And you?" he asked, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry as he turned back to her, "Did you think I had a girlfriend?" His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of her reply.

Her shoulder lifting, she reached out to stroke Hank. "I like Hank a lot better."

The breath caught in his throat at her admission. When she glanced up at him, her smile was shy and pained.

Oh, god, how he wanted to kiss her.


	3. Chapter 3

Sara held his gaze for a moment before she looked away toward the lake. Grissom's eyes lowered to Hank whose eyes were closed as he dozed, and again he patted the dog's side warmly, comfortingly. Hank lazily opened one eye before turning his body, seeking more of his master's touch, and smiling Grissom gently scratched at his belly. He was grateful for Hank's presence, for the distraction the dog provided now and every day. Without Hank, he wouldn't be here, now, with Sara. He knew that.

Hank had given him the opportunity, the impetus he'd needed to ask Sara out. Is that what they were doing, he wondered suddenly, going out? He wasn't shy generally, not around women anyway, but with Sara it was different. Sara was his subordinate, fifteen years his junior. If it went wrong between them there would be ramifications at work.

Over the years she'd made her feelings for him plain, giving him the opportunity more than once to take the initiative if he so desired, but he'd always found a reason not to. Not because he didn't care for her enough, but because he cared too much. Their relationship, their friendship, had been fraught at times, through his own fault he would be first to admit, but this past year they'd reached more of an understanding, had grown close again, friendly like they used to be.

Was he prepared to jeopardise their friendship for a possible romance that might never flourish? Was he ready to take that next step with her, he wondered with a sigh? And if so, would she still want him to? Had that ship sailed? She'd seemed to be moving on recently. Tread carefully, he told himself, for both your sakes.

She'd opened up to him and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. He needed to take his time, let things develop slowly, naturally, between them, if they were to develop into anything more meaningful that just their friendship. And if that was what she wanted to settle for with him, then so be it. It was better than nothing at all.

Hank stood up suddenly, breaking into Grissom's thoughts, shook himself and wandered off. Sara turned back to him and he gave her a smile. Her eyes lowered, and she pinched a cherry tomato from her plate she brought to her mouth. A little juice leaked out of the corner of her mouth, and quickly she wiped at it with the back of her hand. He was openly staring.

"Why did you stop coming?" he asked in a whisper. Sara finished chewing slowly, then fixed him with a puzzled look. He held his ground. "To Desert Breeze Park, I mean. Hank missed you." Pausing, he caught her eye and held it, then tried a smile that wavered uncertainly. "_I_ missed you."

It was Sara's turn to look away, and she remained a while looking out to the lake, seemingly considering her reply. "I thought it'd be too painful," she finally said, turning back toward him.

It was his turn to be confused. "Painful?"

She swallowed, nodded her head at him. "Seeing you outside of work, like that with Hank, relaxed and happy, it was…painful." She brought her hand up to her chest, tapped it over her heart. "Here."

Grissom had felt that way himself, earlier when he'd watched her play with Hank, jealous of the attention, the affection she was lavishing the dog, and for the first time he truly understood how she felt, and why she would want to protect herself. Come on, Gil, you've got this far. It's now, or never.

"And this? Here," he said, "Today, I mean. Is it painful?"

She smiled. "No. It's not." Her smile broadened. "It's nice."

Grissom felt his heart swell again. Maybe he wasn't too late after all. With a hard swallow he smiled and nodded his head, and they finished eating. He was packing the empty containers back in the backpack when he suddenly felt the urge to go. Wincing, he looked up and all around them for a spot where he could sneak off to and do his business unnoticed, but the vegetation was sparse, too sparse to conceal anything.

"Grissom, are you all right?"

Sighing, he lifted sheepish eyes to her. "I need to pee. And there's nowhere to go really."

Sara pinched her lips, badly suppressing her amused smile. "You could always go in the water."

Grissom pursed his mouth at her teasing, then nodded his head at a large rock further up along the coast. "I was thinking more behind there. Would you mind?"

"When you got to go, you got to go."

"Still."

"I promise I won't look."

Grissom pursed his mouth again, wishing he could hold, but he knew he wouldn't be able to, not all the way back to the Marina. He gathered his hiking shoes and socks and put them back on. "All right," he said, pushing to his feet, and Hank sauntered over to him. "Hank, you stay here with Sara. Make sure she doesn't peek. I'll be right back."

"Take your time," she called brightly as he rushed off.

Hurrying away, Grissom glanced then gave them a wave over his shoulder. Sara was holding Hank back by the collar, all the while talking in his ear, and Grissom wondered how long it would be until Hank came bounding over. As it turned Hank never materialised and Grissom took his time doing his business, making sure the coast was clear from all angles.

When he returned Sara had packed the rest of the food away and was once again standing barefoot at the water's edge with Hank. She looked miles away as she stared out at the water and rugged terrain beyond, and Grissom took a moment to watch her. Hank came over to greet him, and Sara turned round with a start. He gave her a smile.

"You're ready to head back?" he asked.

"Whenever you are," she called back and Grissom set about folding the rug and packing away Hank's food and drink Sara had kept out.

Out of the blue, Hank gave a distant bark, and then a series of more urgent ones. With a frown Grissom turned round toward the sound, but Hank had wandered off over the ridge separating the coastline from the desert beyond, concealed from view. Standing up, Grissom gave a shrill whistle, then another, calling Hank back. Hank barked again in response. Buzzards circled overhead where Grissom assumed Hank's barks were coming from.

"He's over there," Sara said, covering the distance to Grissom and quickly shoving her bare feet in her boots. "He must have found something."

Grissom gave a nod, and together they jogged up to the top of the beach. Hank met them as they came over the ridge through some brush and barked again before setting off toward where the buzzards had landed and were pecking at what Grissom assumed to be the carcass of a dead animal. As barking Hank approached the birds flew off, but not very far.

"Hank," Grissom called, stopping. "Come here boy!"

Hank turned toward Grissom and Sara and barked again, calling them over. Grissom and Sara shared a look before setting off again.

"It must be big," Grissom said, slightly breathlessly, "For Hank to have picked up its scent from the beach." He scanned his eyes around but the area was deserted. When they got to the body Grissom was relieved to see it was that of a bighorn sheep, dead a while, judging by the amount of insect activity. Grissom grabbed Hank by the collar, keeping him back, and looked at the buzzards circling above.

Sara let out a giggle and Grissom fixed her with a less-than-amused look. Trust her to find the situation funny. "Could Hank have been a cadaver dog in a past life?" she asked, still chuckling.

"I don't think so," Grissom mumbled back, a little disgruntledly. If he was, the people at the shelter had certainly kept that from him.

"What do we do?" Sara asked.

Grissom shrugged. "Let nature take its course, I suppose." With a sigh he indicated they should head back to the shore. "There's no getting away from it, is there?" he said when they got there, downcast at the thought that their happy and carefree day had been spoiled.

"From what?"

He glanced over at her; she'd taken her cap off and was wiping her brow. "Death. Even on our day off."

Smiling, she put her cap back on. "Could have been worse," she said, nudging her elbow to his arm playfully, "Could have been a real DB, and then our cover was blown."

Her words gave him pause. A smile broke across his face, and he shook his head at her. She winked at him, then perched on a boulder and took a moment to put on her socks and lace up her boots while Grissom drank some water. Already forgetting about his find, Hank had wandered off toward the lake. They picked up their stuff and silently set off along the coastline back to the Marina, Hank merrily leading the way. They took their time about it, the mood once again relaxed and happy.

"You in a rush to get back?" she asked, when they reached the car lot.

Grissom checked the time; four pm. Normally after a night off he liked to go into work a good couple of hours early, catch up with what he'd missed and sign off on the stack of case files and reports that needed signing off on. Not today. "No, why?" he said, thinking how proud his doctor would be at the new leaf he'd turned over.

She pointed toward the cluster of buildings to their right. "I'm just going to pop in there for a minute. Is that all right?"

"Sure," he said, thinking she needed to go to the ladies. "I'll wait out here with Hank."

Sara nodded and without wasting time headed to the souvenir/grocery/service store. Grissom called Hank, clasped the lead on his collar and walked over to the bait and tackle shop next door. They didn't go in, but looked at the equipment displayed in the window. Maybe when he got himself that rod, he could get one for Sara too. A tap on the shoulder a moment later had him turning around with a start. Sara grinned at him; she was holding a plastic carrier bag and two ice cream tubs and plastic spoons.

"Thank you," he said, surprised when she held one out to him.

"It's the least I can do."

He smiled at her, and they moved over to a low wall in the shade and ate their ice creams there, away from the main thoroughfare. All too soon it was time to head back. They'd barely set off that Grissom sniffed, then turned off the air conditioning and opened his window. There was a distinct bad smell coming from the rear; Hank must have got closer to the sheep than he'd thought.

"It wasn't me," Sara said, laughing, and indicated Hank snoring at the rear.

Grissom looked over his shoulder at Hank all tired-out and sprawled over the whole of the backseat with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He was glad he'd followed the animal shelter's advice and purchased a removable and washable seat cover.

"Man's best friend, huh?" he muttered, with a complicit smile at Sara, and shook his head disparagingly. He was going to have to give the pooch a bath, which he wasn't exactly relishing. His lips twitched with a smile. Maybe he could take him to a car wash and hose him down. That might be easier. Better still… "Do you think I can take him to CSI and hose him down out back?"

A small, pained whine came from the backseat, and they laughed. The rest of the return journey was quiet but pleasant and far too short for Grissom's liking. Already he was dreading the moment he'd have to drop her off. Could he fake an engine breakdown, he wondered? Delay the moment they would have to part? And what should he do when he dropped her off? Walk her to her door, tell her he'd had a great time and kiss her on the cheek? On the mouth? With a sigh, he kept his eyes on the road and his speed steady. Sadly far too soon he was pulling into Sara's apartment building lot.

"Thanks Griss for today," she said, releasing her seatbelt when he cut the engine.

"You're welcome," he said, staring at her a little awkwardly.

"I had a great time."

"Me too."

"I'll…see you for shift tonight then."

"Yeah."

Sara turned to Hank and patted him goodbye. Before Grissom could react, she'd gathered her things and had stepped out of the car. He was about to do the same when he noticed she'd left the plastic carrier bag from the harbour store in the footwell. Quickly, he reached over for it – it was surprisingly bulky but very light – and got out of the car. Hank jumped onto the front seat, ready to disembark too, but Grissom shut the door before he could do so.

"Sara, wait up," he said, and caught up with her. "You forgot this."

She paused but made no attempt to take the bag he was holding out to her. "It's for you, and Hank. To say thank you for a lovely day."

Grissom's brow rose in surprise. "You didn't need to do that."

"I know. I wanted to. It's nothing special." Her expression turned sheepish, almost embarrassed. "Just a little something for when you get yourself that fishing rod."

Grissom's face softened. He opened his mouth, then shut it and made to open the bag, wanting to take a peek.

"Not now," she said softly, and he looked up. "Please."

He gave her a smile, nodded his head. They stood awkwardly, silently watching each other for a moment, before Grissom looked away to check on Hank in the car. The dog was watching them hopefully through the window, and so he refocused on her, taking his courage in both hands. "I was wondering. Would you…like to do it again some time? I mean, come out with Hank and me."

A slow smile crept over Sara's features. "I'd love to."

"Yeah?" He couldn't contain his surprise.

Smiling widely, she nodded. "Yeah."

He glanced at Hank again, grinned at Sara giddily. "Okay. So, I'll see you in a few hours then."

"You will."

Sara made to turn away, but then thought better of it, leaning across to kiss Grissom softly on the cheek before smiling awkwardly and moving away toward her front door. Grissom's hand lifted to his cheek as a smile of disbelief formed on his lips. His heart was beating madly in his chest. Again, she'd taken the initiative, but next time he promised himself he would.

As Sara stepped inside her building she turned round and smiled at him over her shoulder, and Grissom raised his hand in a small wave. Then he turned to his car. Hank let out a bark and Grissom hurried back to him. Reaching across, he put the plastic bag on the passenger seat. Curiosity got the better of him and gingerly he peeked inside the bag.

He laughed out loud at the content, Sara's Thank You gifts to him and Hank, and turning in his seat dipped his head toward Sara's windows on the first floor. He was smiling widely. He couldn't see her, but she was watching. From this moment on, he knew everything would turn out all right between them. With a happy heart, he turned the engine over and put the car in gear.

"So, Hank, I was thinking…" He looked over his shoulder, ready to back out of the spot. "How about next time we take Sara to Red Rock Canyon?" He glanced over at his faithful companion. "You think she'd like that?"

* * *

A/N: This is where the oneshot initially ended. I added a bit to it, but that's it.

But what do you think? Shall I continue and take them on that second date, or is this a good place to leave it?


	4. Chapter 4

When that same evening Grissom walked into the break room everyone was already there sitting around the table, deep in conversation and nursing drinks. He stood at the threshold for a moment watching the scene, unnoticed by anyone except Sara who bringing her cup to her lips looked up straight at him. Their eyes met, soft and complicit. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"So now you're late to your own shifts?"

Grissom refocused on Catherine and pursed his mouth, feigning irritation. "Technically speaking, I'm not late."

"Late for you," Catherine retorted in a slight pout.

Grissom could feel everyone's eyes on him, not least of all Sara's, but his mask was firmly in place. "I was...busy," he stated matter-of-factly as he stepped fully into the room.

Catherine's brow rose, and she exchanged a pointed look with Greg.

"You enjoyed your night off then," Warrick said jovially.

"I did," Grissom said, with a pleasant smile directed at Warrick. "Thank you."

"Cos you know, you're looking a little…red."

"In the face," Greg muttered under his breath.

Meaningful looks and smiles were exchanged all round, except for Sara, he noticed, who was looking at her drink.

"You should have put sun cream on," Catherine said, "You need to think about ageing."

"And cancer," Greg piped up.

On top of high blood pressure? Grissom gave an inward sigh then did his best to quash the smile that wanted to escape. "Thank you, Greg, Catherine," he said, deadpan, with a nod to each, "for your concern. I'll file it up for future reference."

Catherine's brow rose again. Warrick hid his wide smile behind his hand while Sara brought her cup to her lip, stifling hers.

"Now if we're all ready." Grissom's gaze narrowed in a no-nonsense look and swept over the group over the top of his glasses before it flicked down to the assignment slips in his hand. The top slip he held out to Greg. "Greg, I need you to go check out a suspicious odour."

Greg frowned then looked at everyone in turn round the table with disbelief before taking the slip from Grissom and checking the case detail. "At the city dump?" he exclaimed incredulously, earning himself a few well-meaning sniggers from his colleagues.

_That'll teach him to place wagers on my love life,_ Grissom thought and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Officer Akers is waiting for you there. Sara, I need you at a B&E in Sunrise – an African art gallery. Greg will come give you a hand as soon as he's done at the Las Vegas recycling facilities."

Sara gave a nod, and after giving her the assignment slip he turned to Catherine. "You and Warrick, you stay on last night's arson case. Hodges' results are back." He made to leave, but changed his mind. "If anybody wants me I'll be in my office catching up on paperwork."

Feeling a little smug at how well he'd conducted himself in the circumstance, Grissom turned on his heels to the scraping of chairs as his team stood up to get to work.

"I told you," he heard Greg say, not so quietly, "I knew I was right. Only a woman could get him in such a foul mood."

"Or sunburn," Sara retorted lightly. "Sunburn could."

Grissom couldn't see the smile tugging at her lips as she spoke, but he could well imagine it. Yes, he thought again, they would be just fine. Without looking back he made his way to his office and sat down at his desk. He was giving a sigh at the stack of files awaiting him when a quiet tap at the door made him look up. Sara stood there, smiling softly.

"Everything okay?" he asked, instinctively returning the smile and removing his glasses.

Sara nodded, then looked over her shoulder before stepping fully into the office, walking right up to the desk and placing a small tub of cream right on top of his files. She'd kept the door open.

"What is it?"

"It's…" her shoulder lifted, "moisturising cream."

He sighed, touched his face. His skin felt tight and a little sore. "Is it that bad?"

Again Sara's shoulder lifted. "Not _that_ bad. Just noticeable."

"Is that why you got me the hat?" he asked in a scoff, "Because you could see me turn into a beetroot?"

Sara was looking amused, or pleased with herself, he didn't quite know. It didn't matter; he loved the hat. "Well, the way I see it," she said, "if you're serious about going fishing then you're going to need to look the part. Protection from the sun _is_ a bonus."

His smile was indulging. "Then we're going to have to get you a matching one," he said, his gaze level, earnest. She may have been joking, but he wasn't.

Sara's smile faded as the implication of his words sunk in, before it reappeared, brightly this time, and she nodded her head. She turned toward the door, then back to him. "You're sending Greg out on his own?" she asked almost as an afterthought, "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yeah," he replied in a small chuckle. "According to PD, the bad smell's that of an as-yet-unidentified badly decomposed large animal. I had to send someone to make sure it's not human." He waved Sara's unvoiced but visible concerns away. "He'll call for backup if he needs it."

"All right," Sara conceded, her "You're the boss" remaining unsaid, and watched him at length before glancing hesitantly at the open door. "Talking of bad smell. How's Hank?"

Grissom's smile returned. "As good as new. You should see the state of the bathroom after we were done though, and I forgot to close the door. Won't make that mistake again," he laughed. "He traipsed water all over the hardwood floor all the way to his basket."

"But he smelled nice."

Trust her to see the bright side. "Yeah, he did," he said softly. "The car not so much."

Her gaze and smile lingered on him before she gave her head a shake. "Anyways, I should go."

He nodded. "Sara," he called as she got to the door, "Will you…go for a run tomorrow?"

Her smile returned. "Definitely."

His smile widened. A lab tech walked past his office and he put his professional face back on. "Let me know if you need help."

"Help?"

"B&E? In Sunrise?"

"Oh." She gave her head a shake. "I thought Greg was my back-up."

Grissom pulled a face. "He could be a while at the dump." With a smile and a shake of the head Sara disappeared out of the door. His eyes and dreamy expression remained on the empty doorway long after she'd gone.

For the next few days he and Sara met every morning after shift at the park. Sara would jog there while he brought Hank and the paper and waited for her. They'd take a walk around the park and sit at the café for breakfast and a chat. He looked forward to these rendez-vous all shift long, very much enjoyed Sara's company outside of work, and it would seem the feeling was mutual.

Grissom would wear his hat, and Hank would carry around in his mouth the red plastic ball Sara had got him at Lake Mead Harbour when she'd bought the hat. Grissom loved his hat so much that he'd taken it to work the previous shift, much to everyone's bemusement. Catherine called it a mid-life crisis ten years too late; he just called it being in love. He hadn't told anyone that.

Physical contact was still kept to a minimum between them. There would be hand and leg brushes as they sat around the small round table at the park café, some accidental, others not, and tender smiles and looks too, but Grissom was yet to kiss her. The setting, the situation was never right. To anyone happening to see them it would look like a fortuitous encounter. They weren't breaking any rules anyway – not yet. They simply were two kindred spirits enjoying their time together, and not enough of it.

A week later and Grissom was getting frustrated. _Things_ weren't progressing fast enough for his liking. Sure he could have asked her out for a meal, but work afterwards made that difficult. And there was always the risk that they might get spotted. He'd decided to make his move on their next proper date – breakfasts at the café notwithstanding – when he and Hank took her to Red Rock Canyon. He was all set, but wangling another night off at the same time as Sara so soon after the previous one without arousing suspicion would take some doing.

Truth be told, he daren't. He daren't lest Catherine and the rest of the team put two and two together. He didn't want them to know. He didn't want _anybody_ to know, and he was sure Sara felt the same. He could hear them all already, talking behind their backs, making judgements and remarks. And then there were the rules of course, department rules that forbade them a loving relationship.

He didn't want to jeopardise what he and Sara already had. He'd have to be patient, that was all, patient and crafty. He was about to give up hope when Greg came up trumps, asking to swap nights off with him. Some concert or other the boy wanted to catch. Grissom played it cool, but inwardly he was rejoicing. He couldn't wait to tell Sara.

He was packing up for the day when a knock sounded on his door. He looked up just as the assistant DA came into his office. Holding a briefcase, he was dressed for court. His expression told Grissom it was bad news. Grissom's heart sank; he didn't need to be told he wouldn't be meeting Sara at the park that morning.

"Sara, I'm glad I caught you." He paused, took a few seconds to catch his breath. "The assistant DA's just turned up. His main witness in the Martin's case has bailed on him. He needs to review the evidence again before he goes to court and…" his voice trailed off into a dejected sigh.

"You won't make the park."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Her smile was soft. "There's always tomorrow."

He nodded at her eagerly. "Yeah."

"Will he need you to testify in court?"

"No. Just review the evidence."

She nodded. "You want me to pick up Hank from the sitters? I could take him on my run. You…could pick him up from mine afterwards if you wanted."

The offer was very tempting. "I don't know, Sara. I don't know how long I'm going to be. Could be late."

"I don't mind."

He paused. "All right," he said, looking forward to it already, "Thank you. I'll call the sitter, let her know." Realising Sara didn't know where the sitter lived he patted his back pocket, took out his wallet and opened it to remove a business card which he handed to her. "The address is on here. I'll come as soon as I can."

By the time Grissom knocked on Sara's door it was nearly twelve. As he waited for the door to open, he rubbed at his eyes and let out a long weary breath. The meeting had been as long and tedious as he'd expected, but necessary. He heard Hank's nail clicking on the hardwood floor before he heard Sara's quiet voice as she came to the door and unbolted it. His heart lifted. Tail wagging Hank came out to greet him and even though he was tired Grissom took a moment to return the dog's affection.

"You look tired," Sara said.

"I am tired," he replied, glancing up at her. She wore sweat pants and a tank top, her hair loose, and a bright smile.

"You want to come in?"

Grissom smiled and nodded his head. "Everything went okay?" he asked, stepping inside Sara's apartment.

Sara closed the door after him and locked it. Instinctive gesture, Grissom idly thought. "Sure," she replied breezily, and turned to the pooch, hovering in their feet. "We had a good run, didn't we, Hank?"

"Thanks again," Grissom said.

"Any time. I enjoyed it. Hank and I, we're pals, aren't we?" she said, reaching down to ruffle the top of Hank's head. There was a pause before she asked, "You want some breakfast?"

"No, I―you must want to be getting to bed."

Sara shook her head, indicated the kitchen with her hand. "I haven't eaten yet. I was making myself some eggs when you arrived."

Grissom's eyes followed where she'd indicated. A glass bowl sat on the counter with beaten egg mixture in it, a skillet at the ready on the gas stove, grated cheese on the side next to cartons of milk and orange juice and a loaf of bread. Could she have been waiting for him to arrive so they could have breakfast together, he wondered? The thought warmed his heart.

"It's okay, if you don't want to."

He turned back to her and smiled, held her gaze. "No, I want to. Thank you."

A smile spread on Sara's face. She nodded her head and moved away to the kitchen. Drawers and cupboard doors opened and shut as she gathered utensils and plates. "Make yourself at home; I won't be a minute."

Turning back to the door Grissom toed off his shoes which he placed next to Sara's and slipped off his jacket. Content that they'd be staying a while longer Hank made himself comfortable on a blanket Sara had folded and placed in front of the window for him. Catching sight of the red ball discarded nearby made Grissom smile.

Dropping his jacket on the couch, Grissom watched as closing his eyes Hank went back to sleep. If only it were this simple, he mused, wishing he could just do the same. Hank certainly didn't seem in a hurry to be heading home, and neither was he. A dreamy smile on his face he joined Sara in the small kitchen and watched her work. His stomach chose this moment to remind him he was hungry, and he was grateful for Sara's breakfast offer.

"Mind Hank's water bowl," she said, nodding toward the floor while she continued scrambling eggs in the skillet.

Grissom looked down to where she'd pointed and shook his head in disbelief.

"Cheese?" she asked.

He gave her a nod in reply, then wordlessly picked up the two plates she'd set aside, set about locating the cutlery and set them on the counter. Sara held out the glass of juice she'd already poured for him and he took it, drinking from it gratefully. Knowing he'd cut down on his coffee intake she didn't offer any, but made some green tea instead – and that without asking. It made their breakfast that much more familiar and intimate. Soon the food was ready and they sat down to eat. For someone who proclaimed she couldn't cook Sara made a mean scrambled egg and cheese.

"You got a nice place," he said when they'd almost finished eating, casting his eye around the small apartment. It was small, but cosy and very Sara. He liked it there; he liked it very much.

"It's…a little small."

"I like it." With a smile, he put the last morsel of toast into his mouth.

Sara stifled a yawn, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He pushed to his feet, gathered their empty plates and took them to the sink. He turned the hot tap on, put the plug in and squirted a little washing up liquid over the dishes.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing up," he said with a look over his shoulder. "You cook and I wash up." He turned back to the sink and shrugged. "When I cook then you can wash up."

"You're on."

Grissom turned at the smile he heard in her voice and smiled. He washed up and Sara dried and put everything away back where it belonged. He liked that about her, the fact that like him she was tidy, that everything had its place in the apartment even if it was small. He liked that she'd made a place for Hank. Dared he hope that in time she'd make a place for him too?

"I forgot to say," he said as he rinsed the last of the cutlery. He turned the tap off, picked up a hand towel and turning dried his hands. "Greg's asked me to swap nights off with him next Wednesday. How about…we take that trip to Red Rock Canyon then?" That gave them consecutive nights off, Sara Tuesday, him Wednesday; that way they'd both be able to catch up with their sleep.

Sara frowned, and he knew that that was what she was working out. "Only if you let me drive," she said. "Then you can get a little shut-eye on the way."

His face softened. "Deal."

Sara stifled another yawn and he knew it was time to leave. "I ought to go," he said, "Let you go to bed."

She nodded, and he moved to the door for his shoes. She brought his jacket and Hank's lead over while he put his shoes on and called for the dog. Hank took his time about it, but eventually sauntered over, red ball in mouth and tail wagging. Grissom took his jacket from Sara and slipped it on. It all felt very formal suddenly, a far cry from the relaxed mood of a moment's ago. Sara unlocked the door and opened it and they stood there, watching each other with slightly awkward smiles on their lips.

"Thank you for breakfast," Grissom said. He swallowed, leaned across to kiss Sara on the cheek, but changed his mind. Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek and deposited the lightest of kisses on her lips. He thought about taking it further, but they were both tired and this was not what he'd envisaged for their first time. When he pulled back his heart was racing, but in a good way. "Good night, Sara," he said, his eyes tender and loving.

She was smiling. "Good night, Griss."

The door closed behind him and Hank, and after hearing the deadlock slide back into place they took the stairs down to the ground floor. His lips tingled.

If she had asked him to stay, he wondered, would he have done?


	5. Chapter 5

Grissom turned the shower off and slid the door open. Hot, unscented steam escaped, shrouding the room in a fine mist, immediately coating the mirror. As he blindly reached for his towel, water dripped everywhere, in his eyes, on the mat, the tile floor. He dried his face and hair before stepping out of the cubicle and towelling the rest of his body. Quiet music drifted over to him from the kitchen, the radio he'd left on after his hurried breakfast.

Looking up, he caught a blurry reflection of his face in the mirror and after wiping the towel to the glass stared at it for a moment. Did he still see that same lonely, middle-aged man carrying too much baggage staring back at him?

"What do you think?" he asked Hank curled up on the bed and only just visible through the open door.

Hank lazily opened one eye, looked at him uninterestedly before going back to sleep.

"That's what I thought," he mumbled to himself, turning back to the mirror, and then a little louder, "Some friend you make."

But there was a sparkle in his eyes now, one that hadn't been there before, one that brought a smile to his face as he thought of Sara. Sadly they hadn't seen enough of each other in the days since the impromptu breakfast at her place – work notwithstanding. Nick had returned to work, and to celebrate they'd taken him out to Frank's for breakfast and drinks. Then the weather had turned, further curtailing their meeting at the park.

He'd thought of asking her along to his place for breakfast instead, but he had worried his offer would seem contrived, as if he had an ulterior motive. Which thinking of it he had. Anyway, today was the day he'd make his move, he'd decided, and hopefully he wouldn't make a total ass of himself. Humming along to the music, he picked up his comb from the shelf and hastily ran it through his curls and beard. His hair needed cutting, but that he couldn't do himself. His beard on the other hand…

Deftly, he began trimming the left side, little hairs falling haphazardly in the sink. It didn't really need trimming yet, but he wanted to look his best, and when he finally took his chance and kissed Sara again he didn't want the experience to be a negative one for her. Some women, he'd learned from experience, didn't like the feel of a bristly beard on their faces and he was yet to find out whether Sara was one of them. He was just about finished when the doorbell rang, startling him.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, put down the comb and scissors and turned toward the door, "She's early."

Suddenly fully awake, Hank was already on his feet, shaking himself. He gave a little yelp, in agreement maybe, and without a second glance leaped off the bed and out of the bedroom. Grissom made to follow him before he remembered he was stark naked. He picked up the wet towel off the floor and hurriedly tied it around his waist. The knot fell open as soon as he moved, the towel sliding to his feet, almost tripping him up.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, showing an impatience uncustomary of Sara. Grissom wrenched his underpants drawer open, pulling out a clean pair which he swiftly put on. More rings sounded, in quick succession this time, and grabbing his jeans Grissom popped his head round the bedroom door. "Just hold on a minute, will you?" he called impatiently, jumping on the spot as he shoved one leg into the pants before trying, unsuccessfully, the other one, "I'm coming."

Jeans on, he found a polo shirt which he slipped over his head while rushing to the front door. This was not what he'd had in mind. Hank was circling the spot behind the door, panting and yelping, eager to let their visitor in. Grissom waited a second to catch his breath, then automatically looked through the peephole before turning the lock, only for his heart to sink and his greeting to die on his lips.

"Some dog you make," he told Hank, "It's not even Sara."

Morose, he opened the door.

"Delivery for Grissom."

"That's me," he said, disappointed.

Hank only gave a perfunctory sniffing of the delivery guy before he moved past him. Thinking the Boxer needed to pee, Grissom wordlessly took the stylus pen and pad and signed for his package – a new text book he'd mail-ordered and would normally be excited to be receiving. Movement beyond finally caught his eye; Sara was crouched down a little way off, making a fuss of Hank.

At least he was dressed, he thought, an instinctive and very happy smile forming on his lips. The delivery guy swapped the package for his pad and pen and left, and stepping closer to the pair Grissom watched, a little enviously he may add, Sara and Hank get reacquainted. The dog made it look too easy, and it wasn't fair.

"You're early," Grissom said, with a smile in his voice.

Sara looked up, a wide grin on her face. "I'm working on it."

She pushed to her feet and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. Her smile stayed on. Suddenly awkward at the door, visible to passing traffic and watching neighbours, Grissom startled out of his enchantment and stepped back into the condo. "Come in," he said, "I'm not quite ready."

Sara ran her eyes over the length of him all the way down to his bare feet before she followed him in and after Hank had grudgingly followed suit he closed the door. Sara paused uncertainly and turned toward him, and after a brief hesitation he leaned across for a peck on the cheek, one that lingered tantalisingly when he caught a whiff of a light, fruity fragrance he rather liked the smell of. He knew she didn't wear perfume for work, none of them did, and he rather liked the idea that she'd put some on for his benefit. Maybe he should do the same.

"I couldn't help noticing," she said with a wave at his midriff, drawing him out of his musings, "Your flies are undone."

Grissom looked down at himself and pinched his lips before quickly doing himself up. "As I said…I'm not quite ready." He moved to the lounge area and dropped the package onto the couch before heading to the kitchen. He felt as gauche and nervous as a geeky teenager all of a sudden. Sara had insisted on making up their picnic, so there was nothing for him left to do. "I need to grab Hank's things and…would you like a drink while you wait?"

Sara declined the drink, and leaving her to peruse his CD collection he escaped to the bedroom to catch his breath. When he was finally ready, cologne and all, he found Sara sitting on the couch with Hank curled up at her side. She looked right at home there, one hand idly stroking the dog while she read the day's paper he hadn't had time to read yet. Everything would go to plan, he told himself again as he openly stared. She would love where he was taking her.

She looked up suddenly, folded the paper and pushed to her feet. "You're ready?"

He gave a nod, moved to the stereo and switched it off. His eyes flicked to Hank who eager to go had made a bee-line for the front door. "I was thinking that it'd be easier if we took my car."

Sara twisted her lips. "You don't want me to drive," she stated in a scoff.

"No. Not at all, but if last time is anything to go by, well, with Hank…"

"I put his blanket out over the backseat," she cut in.

_His_ blanket? he thought.

"It'll be fine. Come on, grab what you need. If we're too late we won't find anywhere to park."

"Yes, dear," escaped his lips before he'd realised, but thankfully Sara was already opening the front door and he didn't think she'd heard him.

He grabbed the backpack with Hank's stuff from the counter, slipped his wallet, map of their walk and newspaper inside it, grabbed his windproof jacket and hat from the coat hook and locked up. When he got to the Prius, Sara was already at the wheel with Hank sitting proudly at the back, right in the middle between the two front seats so he had a clear view of the road ahead. It reminded Grissom of himself as a young child in his parents' car long before rear seatbelts were introduced. He opened the trunk and placed his bag, jacket and hat next to Sara's much bigger backpack.

"Why are you smiling?" Sara asked as he got in and she started up the engine.

His smile widened, and he shook his head. Hank nuzzled his shoulder, and after petting the dog and telling him to lie down he did his seatbelt up. Sara pulled out of the space and joined the traffic, eventually heading toward Summerlin and Blue Diamond Road. And then he thought, why not share that childhood memory with her? And so he did, and told her about one of the few recollections he had of his father and of riding in the back of his immaculate 1955 Ford Fairlane Crown Victoria on a rare camping trip.

As soon as they left Summerlin and the red mountains came into view the conversation kind of stopped between them. No words could describe the sheer scale of the desert, its immensity and undeniable, unspoiled beauty. Red Rock Canyon was only a half-hour drive away from Vegas. Grissom had chosen the destination with care, even though he knew that the place would be crawling with tourists.

But Sara loved the outdoors, and he wanted to share another one of his favourite hangouts with her. People thought he had no life outside of work, but he did. They just didn't share in the same interests. What he didn't have was enough time to indulge. But he was changing that. The anonymous crowds didn't bother him there. There was enough space for everybody. There was so much to look at, so much for them to discover and lose themselves in.

The rugged, stark landscape had appealed to him and his solitary nature from the start. On his own, over the years, he'd hiked the many trails, until on one of them he'd taken a wrong turn and discovered a little-known secret – a gem of an ecosystem in the heart of the barren desert. There was something enchanting about the place, almost mystical. This was what he wanted to share with her today, where he planned to kiss her. Well, if the conditions were right, of course.

A sign indicating Red Rock Canyon visitors' centre and the start of the thirteen-mile Scenic Loop a mile ahead had him refocusing his thoughts and Sara ease off the accelerator. Feeling a change of pace, Hank lifted his head off the back seat and sat up. He gave a wide yawn and turned toward the window before looking at Grissom. The question in his expression was clear, "Are we there yet?" The image of a young him once again popped into his mind, making him smile.

"Almost there," Grissom told him.

"Grissom, this place is packed," Sara said, craning her neck toward the tens, if not hundreds, of cars already there.

"I know," he said, straightening in his seat, "I read that it gets more than a million tourists each year."

Sara's brow creased deeply, and she turned her attention back to the road. Her puzzlement soon made way to a small, wry smile he wasn't sure how to interpret. "Hiding in plain sight?" she queried lightly, a brow arched in his direction.

How else were they to do it, he wondered? He didn't want for them to hide; he just wanted to keep his private life – their private life – private. His shoulder lifted. "I know this place," he said, suddenly uncertain, and motioned with his hand that she should drive on past the visitors' centre entrance when she slowed down again. "I mean, if it's all right with you. It's a little more off the beaten track."

Sara smiled, nodded, then sped off along Highway 159 until a few miles later he indicated a parking area carved just alongside the road where they could park. Sara glanced at him with puzzlement, but didn't question him. She merely checked her mirrors and signalling pulled up at the end of the row of already parked vehicles before cutting the engine. Hank fully sat up on the backseat, ready to disembark.

"Only the locals know to park here," he said, releasing his seatbelt.

"You've been here before."

He gave a nod, a shy smile and pointed at the small wooden sign announcing First Creek Canyon trail. "The trailhead's just over there. It's a short, moderate three-mile hike to the canyon, but believe me there's lots to see and do. And I know this perfect spot for our picnic."

Sara's smile broadened at his enthusiasm. "All right," she said, "let's do this."

She was about to open her car door to get out when he placed his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She turned her head and watched him expectantly. His hand was still on her shoulder and he kept it there.

"Sara, thank you…." She frowned, and he paused and removing his hand gave her a tight smile. For giving me this second chance I blew years ago, he almost said, for making me the happiest than I've been in a very long time; for just being you. He swallowed, raised his shoulder, settling for, "For coming here today with me and Hank."

Her eyes averted uncertainly. She gave a short sigh, then looked over at him, meeting his eyes dead on. "Grissom," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "what are we doing? I mean…" her words trailed off in another sigh and she glanced away from his face.

Some other time he might have played dumb and pretended he didn't understand what she meant, but not today. Her words were awkward, but devoid of accusation. She just wanted to know where she stood. In those few words, in that one glance, he saw her lack of confidence, her need to make sure, to protect herself.

Hank chose this moment to stand up, keeping his hind legs on the backseat and resting his front paws on the shoulders of the front ones. He was panting very loudly and very near Grissom's ear. His breath wasn't the best either. It was both distracting and making coherent thinking impossible.

However much he wanted to, at that moment in time, Grissom didn't have the words to explain to her how she made him feel or what he felt for her. He couldn't tell her, but maybe he could show her. Once again the setting was all wrong, but needs must and all that. He swallowed, locked his gaze to hers but she spoke before he could move.

"Are we dating?" she asked, holding his gaze, and gave a small nervous laugh. "I mean…"

Yes! His stare was earnest. "Is that what you want between us?"

She flicked her gaze away uncomfortably to Hank yelping and moving around restlessly at the back.

"Would you like us to be dating?" he tried again.

She fixed him with a level gaze. "Grissom, please, don't play games with me."

He nodded his head very slowly, then turned his body round toward her and in a textbook move he hadn't practised in a long time leaned across the middle console to kiss her. Hank's impatient yelps and small barks as he paced the backseat receded into his subconscious. His mouth felt dry.

Sara's eyes closed as she read his intention. Her face angled toward his. She wanted this as much as he did, he realised, which gave him the boost in confidence he needed. The fingers of his right hand lifted to her face, brushing her cheek, over the corner of her mouth, her lips in a gentle caress. Her lips parted with a sharp intake of breath. His heart literally beating in his mouth, he swallowed and finally closed the distance to her.

Before their lips could meet in that soft kiss he'd rehearsed in his head, Hank put his wet snout in there and licked at the side of their faces ferociously. Grissom's heart sank as pulling apart from her he pushed the dog's face away. Hank settled back on the backseat, his expression doleful, while laughing Sara wiped slobber from her face.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said, giving Hank a dark look and Sara an apologetic one.

Sara's grin was wide and amused, and he relaxed. She reached up and wiped her hand over his cheek – the one Hank had so zealously kissed a moment's ago – ever so gently, ever so tenderly. Her eyes never left his face. Her hand lingered there, and she looked up. Their gazes met, and then their lips, lightly brushing against each other at first, before, fraught with emotion and longing, he deepened the kiss.

This time Hank didn't join in.

* * *

A/N: Light and fluffy is the order of the day.

Thank you, as ever, for reading and reviewing and putting the story in your favourites. I truly appreciate your support.


	6. Chapter 6

While Sara swapped her running shoes for hiking boots, Grissom half-filled Hank's bowl with water and crouching next to it watched with a fond smile the dog gratefully drink from it. "No more of your antics, all right?" he said, ruffling the top of Hank's head and keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, "Or next time Sara and I go out you're staying home."

Hank looked up and gave a happy bark before returning to his drinking, and Grissom shook his head. Afterwards, without even a word of thanks, Hank wandered off to sniff the wheels of the next car and already recycle some of that water he'd just drunk. Keeping the remainder of the water for later, Grissom put the lid back on the bowl and put it away.

Then he turned up the collar of his polo shirt and fixed his hat firmly on his head. Disguise and protection from the sun at the same time, he mused with a wry smile, before calling Hank back and clipping the lead on his collar. Traffic was sporadic but fast on this stretch of road and Grissom didn't want an accident. The wind breaker, he folded and packed in his bag. Best be prepared; it wasn't uncommon for the weather to change without a moment's notice in the desert.

Eager to get going, Hank tugged at the lead and gave a little hurrying bark. Dogs were allowed in the conservation area as long as they were kept leashed on accounts of the wildlife – flora and fauna alike – and other visitors, and that one picked up after them.

"Sorry, buddy," Grissom said, gently pulling Hank back as he fastened the straps on the backpack, "But you're going to have to wait. Maybe later when we're not so exposed I can let you off."

When he looked up from the trunk to shoulder his backpack, Sara was standing there watching him. Or rather she was watching straight through him with a faraway, slightly sad look in her eyes that made him wonder at her thoughts. Gently so as not to startle her he touched his hand to her arm, and refocusing she smiled at him.

"You were miles away there, Sara," he said softly. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure," she replied confidently. "I was just…" she gave her head a brisk shake, focused her eyes across the valley to the rock formation beyond, "isn't the view just mind-blowing?"

Grissom watched her for a moment uncertainly, but she kept her gaze deliberately averted and he turned, following her line of sight. The view was indeed breathtaking, and he never tired of it. "Those cliffs you see directly in front of us are the Wilson Cliffs. Wait till we get closer, then you really get a feel for the scale of the place." He turned back to her and smiled. Panting as he waited, Hank sat down on his right foot. With an annoyed twist of his lips, Grissom gently tugged at his foot to free it and when that failed pulled at the lead to shift Hank's bulk. "You ready?" he asked Sara.

"Almost."

She rummaged in the side pocket of her backpack and took out a bottle of Aveeno sunscreen, flipped the lid up and poured a dollop on her fingertips. She was applying the cream to her face when she raised the bottle in his eye line, offering him some. He was about to refuse when she cocked her brow and Catherine's playful jibe came back to him. Smiling, he turned his hand up and Sara poured a little on his fingers, which gingerly he spread on his face.

"We don't want a repeat of the other night," she said, clearly on the same page.

_We?_ he thought wryly. "_We_ certainly don't," he replied, deadpan.

A few minutes later, car secured and packs on their backs, they went through the X-shaped burro gate and set off at a good pace through the open desert, Hank as always excitedly leading the way. Every so often he would stop and sniff the air, wanting to change direction but Grissom would give his lead a light tug and they'd happily set off again. They'd covered a hundred yards maybe when Grissom felt Sara's fingers stealthily slip between his. The gesture made his heart aflutter, and he struggled not to break into a smile. And then he thought, why not? Why not smile if he wanted to? Why not show he was happy?

He didn't have to hide his feelings or put a mask on anymore, not right then anyway. Turning toward her with a wide, giddy smile he winked and warmly returned the squeeze. Letting go of her hand, he draped his arm around her shoulders over her backpack and gently pulled her to him. For a few metres as she leaned her head on his shoulder, he was filled with a sense of wellbeing, a sense of belonging and contentment, so deep, so great and overwhelming that he was left breathless.

He'd allowed Hank in his life, and now Sara. Somehow his world hadn't come crashing down as he'd feared. He'd never allowed himself to believe such happiness and satisfaction was possible, never felt it with any of the other women he'd dated over the years. It gave him a sense of confidence that they would prevail, and that against his own odds.

His arm began to ache and he released his grip on her. Sara pulled back from him and they continued walking but not before he'd taken her hand in his again. Once more he felt like a geeky teenager on his first date. Except this was their second date, and he was no teenager.

"First Creek, which gives its name to the canyon," he said, "flows through a small channel which, like the canyon around it, is surrounded by steep, rocky walls. The trail follows the creek deep into the canyon and continues beyond the source of the stream all the way to the south side of Mount Wilson. I thought we could stop near the source and have our picnic there."

With a soft smile Sara looked over at him and gave a nod. "You said moderate hike, but sounds to me like a bit of an upward trek."

"A little. But trust me, you'll be fine. If I can do it, so can you."

"All right."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Grissom checked that the coast was clear and let Hank off the lead. As they walked, their steps matching stride for stride, Grissom's mind wandered as he pondered how easy it was to be in Sara's company, how undemanding she was. Just like Hank, she just seemed to fit into his ordered life. It was still very early days, but he hoped it was a sign of things to come and that he wouldn't mess everything up.

They walked on in silence for half a mile or so before Grissom spoke again. "You know that it's not going to be this easy all the time, right?" he said, and Sara turned a puzzled expression toward him. A film of sweat coated her brow, and stopping she pulled her sleeve down to wipe at it. A quick glance told him Hank was within sight, sniffing at sagebrush. Grissom stopped too and turned toward her. "This, I mean," he said, flicking his hand back and forth between them, "Between us."

Her expression darkened slightly. She reached back for a bottle of water in the side netting of her backpack and uncapped it. "I know," she replied before taking a swig of water.

"I don't mean when we're together like now," he said and let out a deep breath.

"Work can't know," she filled in when he faltered, and offered him the bottle, which he declined with a shake of the head.

He needed to pace himself with the water, or he'll have to go behind a bush again and he didn't want Sara thinking he had troubles in _that_ department. She was being very matter-of-fact about their budding relationship, which was good. He watched as she took another swig of water, recapped the bottle and slotted it back in the bag side netting. As easily as they had stopped, they fell back in step with each other.

"It's not that I don't want work to know," he went on earnestly, "But if they did—"

"Then we couldn't keep working together. I know. I get it."

He smiled, nodded and then held her gaze as he spoke, so she was sure he meant what he was saying. "I wish it were different, but I like working with you, Sara. I don't want that to change."

"Friends at work, more outside," she said musingly, and refocused a bright smile on him. "I can work with that."

A warm smile spreading on his face, he stopped and held her back by the arm so she stopped too. It all seemed too easy. "You sure?"

She smiled, nodded her head enthusiastically. "I've…" her shoulder lifted. Her gaze averting, she resumed walking and he did the same. "I've been waiting a long time for this day." She looked at him, her smile as uncertain as her words. "I mean, Grissom, you got to have known, surely."

He gave her a sheepish nod. "I knew. I just…wasn't ready, I guess."

She didn't speak for a moment, and neither did he. "What's changed?" she finally asked, her brow narrowed with interest. There was a trace of uncertainty in her voice, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to believe this was truly happening between them, as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "But I do know that unlike what Catherine thinks I'm not going through a mid-life crisis ten years too late. I―"

The words died on his lips. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Hank a little way off the trail, rolling around on the dirt ground, over and over again on the same spot. Frowning, he took off at a jog toward him. "Hank, no!" he shouted, picking his steps carefully so as not to trip over the greasewood bushes and yucca plants.

"What's wrong?" Sara called, directly behind him.

He didn't reply. He just shook his head and let out an impatient sigh. "This dog, I swear. He's out to ruin everything. Hank! Stop it!"

"Griss, what is it?"

His master's stern command had Hank immediately twisting his body around and up to his feet. It was clear he knew he'd been caught doing wrong. Tail hanging low, very low between his legs, Hank skulked back toward them. Grissom heard giggling behind him, giggling Sara vainly tried to suppress.

"I told you we should have taken my car," he mumbled grumpily.

Sara placed her hand on his shoulder, and he turned. "Don't worry about it," she said in a chuckle. "He was just having a little fun."

Grissom pursed his mouth. "By rolling himself in burro dung?"

"At least it's dry," she said, trying but failing to keep a straight face.

Laughter bubbled out of him against his will. Head shaking, he held out his hand to her and they wound their way back to the trail with Hank following at a distance, as if he knew he was animal non grata. Sara pointed at a brightly coloured butterfly that fluttered by – a beautiful specimen of a Vanessa virginiensis – and just like that Grissom's good mood returned. He never saw the conciliatory look and nod Sara gave Hank so he re-joined their little party.

"Did you know that the lifespan of a Painted Lady is between two to four weeks?" he asked.

And then there was no shutting him up. Sara seemed to like it, asking pertinent and interested questions, which was all the encouragement he needed. Hank barked, and Grissom glanced away from Sara's face, searching for the dog. Sara tapped his arm and pointed to their right where Hank was partially hidden behind a Joshua tree. A little way away, a dusty-looking cowboy was leading a ragtag group of tourists on horseback. Grissom called Hank back and snapped the lead back in place.

"Do you ride?" Sara asked when the convoy had passed them.

"Horses? No." He paused. Was that a trick question, he wondered, a roundabout way of suggesting they went horse riding? "Why?"

"I was just wondering."

"You?" he asked.

"Once. When I was in Boston. A…_friend_ had horses."

His brow rose in interest. Or was it jealousy? "A _friend_?"

Her smile widened pleasurably. "A _girl_ friend. She was my roommate in freshman year. To tell you the truth, I'm a little scared of horses."

"You are?" he asked, slightly surprised at her admission, and slowly she nodded her head.

Soon they reached the entrance to the canyon. The trail joined the stream, following alongside it. All at once, the terrain became more rugged, rocky and uphill, the vegetation denser and greener, as the temperatures dropped a welcomed degree or two. Conversation between them tapered off naturally, as both carefully watched their step. Hank was off the lead again, bounding on ahead, every so often circling back on himself to make sure they were following.

Sara would often stop to catch her breath and take in the scenery from every angle. Unbeknown to him she'd brought along her camera and she took time composing each shot. He'd take off his hat and let the gentle breeze cool him down. He would be loath to admit it but he was grateful for the stops, his lack of sleep finally catching up with him.

At a particularly tricky passage, Grissom went first then held out his hand to give Sara a pull up. The gesture had come naturally to him, but it made Sara pause before she accepted his outstretched hand with a wide smile. Not long now, he thought, checking the vegetation so that he wouldn't miss the barely noticeable turn for a use-trail down the side of the wash – a pine tree on the south side and a yellowish rock outcrop across First Creek Wash at the far end of a red stream bank. He slowed down and watched as both Sara and Hank overshot the entrance.

"It's this way," he said.

Hank and Sara stopped and turned around at the same time. Both wore frowns on their faces. "You sure?" Sara asked, voicing Hank's visible disbelief.

Grissom's brow arched. "I'm sure." He hooked his thumb toward the use-trail. "Come on, we're almost there."

A few feet and there it was, the top of the waterfall. He'd feared it would be dry at this time of year – it generally was – but the heavy rains of a few days ago meant that it wasn't. The beautiful 15-foot waterfall that spilled into a glassy pool of icy cold snow melt wasn't gushing as such, but it wasn't a trickle either. Sara stopped dead in her tracks and lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun stood transfixed and staring at it for the longest of time. Her expression told Grissom she was suitably impressed, and he felt pleased.

"I can see a pool at the bottom," she exclaimed, her tone a mixture of awe, excitement and disbelief, and turned toward him. "Can we get down to it?"

He smiled at her. "Over there," he said, pointing to another narrow use-trail a little further to their right. It would take a little time and effort to get to the bottom but the alternative of scrambling straight down the purple-dirt embankment didn't quite appeal. "I thought it'd be a good spot for us to stop and have our picnic."

Sara turned a bright smile to him, her excitement visibly spilling over. In one leap, she covered the distance to him and draping her arms around his neck kissed him full on the mouth. His heartbeat took on a life of its own. The gesture was so totally unexpected that for a moment he failed to react and reciprocate it.

It was the first kiss she initiated, and God was it a turn on.


	7. Chapter 7

"Just take it steady," Grissom intoned, his heart skipping a beat as Sara lost her footing and slid down the escarpment a little too quickly. Too impatient for her own good, she was cutting far too many corners – literally. "I don't reckon we'll have coverage in these parts."

"You brought your cell?" Sara asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and mild reproach, as turning her head she glanced up at him.

His shoulder lifted. His eyes lowered as he carefully manoeuvred his next footstep. "I fully intend to keep it off."

"Good," she said, and adeptly dropped down onto the next level where Hank was already waiting, "Because I fully intend not to hurt myself."

Her feistiness brought a smile to his lips. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, breathless as he tried to keep up with her while being careful not to trip and topple face first down the slope, "It's a steep climb back to the top." _And then a long trek back to the car, especially if I have to carry you_, he thought, but didn't say.

When, safe and sound and covered in dust, they finally got to the bottom they weren't alone, and Grissom's heart sank. A small group of people had set up camp and sat on the small pebbly beach enjoying the tranquillity of the place. Grissom and Sara shared a disappointed look, but stopped nevertheless to catch their breath and take in the view.

As they stood slightly back, the packs came off their shoulders and the hat off Grissom's head. Never one to stand on ceremony, Hank went round the group and straight for the water, lapping at it greedily before going for a paddle to cool down. Grissom thought about stopping him, but then decided not to. The dog wasn't doing any harm, or bothering anyone. Besides, he mused, after the stunt he pulled earlier it would save having to bathe him or pay for Sara's car to be detailed.

Grissom reached for the now-tepid bottled water and drank from it thirstily while scanning his eyes over the cove and racking his brain as to where else they could go for their picnic. This was not at all what he had in mind for their romantic interlude. Next to him, Sara stretched her back and rolled the kinks out of her shoulders and neck, then opened her backpack for a second bottle of water.

"What do you want to do?" Grissom asked, his voice hushed so as not to be overheard. "They don't look like they're going to leave any time soon."

Her eyes on Hank, Sara finished her drink. "I think we should wait," she said. "I've a feeling it won't be too long before they leave."

"You think?"

Glancing over at him she nodded her head, and he caught a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "Give Hank another two minutes, and you'll see."

Grissom frowned with puzzlement, then when understanding finally dawned pinched his lips to hide his growing smile. "We can't," he argued unconvincingly.

Sara gently nudged his arm, clearly disagreeing. He knew he should step in, and yet made no moves to. Right on cue, Hank came out of the water onto the beach and shaking himself vigorously sprayed water all around him and more importantly over the group, shattering their peace and serenity.

Sara picked up Grissom's hand and without looking at him placed the water bottle she was still holding into it. "I am so sorry," she said loudly, sounding appropriately mortified as stepping forward she addressed the group. "Oh, my," she cooed, "I _am_ sorry. Hank, come here, boy."

Grissom's amusement intensified, and he struggled not to burst out laughing. She was playing a good part, there was no denying it, but the people didn't look overly impressed as they began to gather their packs and get to their feet. Gently Sara grabbed Hank by his collar and steered him away while giving his side a congratulatory pat. The look she threw Grissom was pure wickedness.

"Good boy," she said in a whisper, giving Hank an extra stroke for good measure.

"It was time he redeemed himself," Grissom concurred.

"Whatever for?" Sara purred, in a voice one normally reserved for young infants, and gave Hank another loving stroke. "Rolling in the mud?"

"Among other things," he said, with a twist of the lips, thinking about the slobbery kiss in the car earlier.

Once the group had disappeared, Hank returned to the beach to sun himself on the patch of sunlight the people had vacated, while picking up their bags Grissom and Sara walked over to some boulders that would make perfect seats. Except Sara had other ideas, and camera in hand immediately went exploring further. Watching her go, Grissom sat down in the partial shade of a cottonwood tree and stretched his legs out in front of him.

He just needed a little rest. A few minutes to recharge his batteries then he'd be as good as new. His eyes drifted shut by themselves and letting out a long breath he took a moment to enjoy the peace and solitude of his surroundings. He emptied his mind of thoughts and filled it with the lulling sounds of flowing water, songbirds and Pacific tree frogs.

Lips as soft as a butterfly's wings brushed against his, once, twice, three times, and instinctively his face lifted up, seeking more of the touch. His lips parted, his tongue darting out, licking and tasting salt. His pulse jumped with a heady flush of excitement. His hands flew to her face as he pulled her to him and returned the kiss with a fervour that took his breath away. Warm, strong hands slipped under his top, sliding upward in one slow motion, caressing over his waist and sides to his armpits.

He forgot all about their surroundings. Something deep inside him stirred and tugged and pulsed. He let out a groan, a low moan that came from deep within. His top came off over his head, then hers. Gently he pulled her down until she sat astride his thighs. She was breathing hard. His hands moved to her back, travelling up, and down, and up again, feeling the sharp ridges and then the soft planes of her shoulders, of her back, her hips.

His fingers found her bra, pulling the straps down her arms, finding the clasp, unhooking it. Her breast when he brought it to his mouth was soft, yet pert and full and heaving. He couldn't get enough of it, enough of her. She made a sound deep in her throat, one that vibrated against his neck and resonated in his heart. Her hands threaded through his hair, and pulling his head up from her chest she took his mouth in a searing kiss.

God, she left him breathless and yearning for more. His hands moved to his jeans, roughly pulling at the buttons that kept him confined. Something sharp was digging into his back and he shifted uncomfortably. Distantly, he heard rocks falling and splashing loudly into the water. Sara stopped moving, turned toward the sound. Hank barked once, the sound echoing off the walls of the cove, off the walls of his mind, finally bringing him back to consciousness.

Slowly he blinked his eyes open. The pool, the cove everything was the same. Sara wasn't there. Disoriented, he shook his head and rubbed at his face. That dream had been so real and vivid that for a moment he could only sit there basking in the lingering sensations. He could still feel her in his hands, taste her on his lips and smell her on his skin. He gave his head another shake and suddenly remembered that she'd gone off on her own.

How long had he been asleep, he wondered with growing alarm? What about the plopping sound of rocks he'd heard and Hank barking? Had that also been in his dream? His heartbeat quickened at the thought that she'd come to harm. Straightening his back, he shielded his face against the bright light and scanned frantic eyes over the pool, the waterfall, and when he found it empty over the rest of the area. All was quiet, undisturbed, eerily so. Sensing movement, Hank lifted his head off his front paws, looking in his direction.

"Have you seen Sara?" he asked the dog, pushing to his feet and joining him at the water's edge. "Do you know where she is?"

Rising to sit on his haunches, Hank tilted his head to the side and regarded Grissom with curiosity. Instinctively Grissom's hand lowered to his head, stroking between his eyes, and he sighed. Where was she?

He was going to call her name when he heard wood crunching underfoot. His head whipped up toward the sound and he saw her emerge from behind a leafy tree halfway up the waterfall. She looked down toward the beach and gave him a wide smile, then scrambled down the embankment before nimbly hopping from rock to rock along the edge of the pool back to him. Grissom could barely watch; one slip and she went in. Tail beating, Hank sauntered over to meet her.

"Gil, I can't believe this place," she said excitedly as she jumped down onto the beach.

Only now that she was safe did his heartbeat return to a more sedate rhythm, only for his face to soften with delight when he realised she'd called him Gil. He liked his given name spoken from her lips, he liked it a lot. And instinctively he knew that just as easily she'd slip back to calling him Grissom at work.

"It's just incredible," she went on enthusiastically, reaching his side, Hank following on her heels. "I swear I could see fish at the bottom of the pool."

_One false step and you'd have seen for yourself, _he thought. "Sure," he said instead, "There's even crayfish in there if you look real close."

Gently she lowered her camera to the top of her backpack. "You okay?" Her expression was soft with concern. "You tired?"

Had she seen him catch a little shut-eye, he wondered? His gaze lowered to her chest. A vision of her straddling him popped into his head. "I'm okay," he said, playing it cool as heat filled his cheeks.

"Tough shift?"

"Last night? No. It was just…" a smile formed as he remembered how slowly time had ticked away, "long."

She looked over at him. "You hungry?"

"Oh, yes."

They sat down on the beach and shared a simple but welcomed lunch. They didn't talk much, simply content to enjoy the peace and tranquillity of their surroundings, a pleasurable break from their everyday, more hectic lifestyle. It was just the two of them and nature, and Hank of course.

"You know, Sara, next time I want to cook for you." His words had come out of nowhere, totally unexpected for him as much as for her.

Sara swallowed her mouthful and wiped crumbs from her lips. "You what?"

His shoulder rose. He knew what was going through her mind; she was wondering at his intention. His…dream earlier, his fantasy, had made him realise that he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. But what if she wasn't? Maybe his offer to cook dinner, presumably at his place, came too early in the proceedings. A neutral place might have been more appropriate. He didn't want to put pressure on her, not when she'd been so patient with him.

"It's just that, well, since I can't take you out for a meal to a restaurant – not in Vegas anyway – I thought that I'd cook for you." He paused, and wishing this wasn't such a spur-of-the-moment suggestion thought his next words carefully. "Sara, would you like to come to dinner one evening?"

Sara's face softened, and she nodded her head at him. "I'd love to."

He gave her a smile, took his courage in both hands. "How about tomorrow night?" he suggested. "Unless you have plans, of course."

Her smile was dancing. She shook her head. "Tomorrow night sounds great."

They stared at each other for a moment, their faces a picture of new love and happiness, before they sealed their third date with a kiss. Already he was composing menus in his head and making a list of ingredients he'd need to buy when he went to the store the next day. Should he change his bed sheets, he wondered? Purchase a packet of condoms? Was that too bold of him? Too presumptuous?

Sara glanced away from him and wordlessly picked up her camera. Up to then, she'd only taken shots of the landscape, a couple including Hank, but this time she pointed the camera straight at him. Hank, sensing an opportunity, yawned loudly and sat up, and Grissom shook his head disparagingly.

Some other time he might have turned his face away or raised his hand to hide himself, but not then. He just leaned his head toward Hank now sitting on his hind legs next to him, put his arm loosely around his neck and looking straight at her through the camera gave the gentlest of smiles. Sara didn't immediately take the shot. She paused and stared at the screen for a long time with a solemn face and he wondered what she was seeing.

He was growing uncomfortable, but if Hank could hold the pose so could he. Finally she pressed the shutter and then checked the shot on the screen. Her smile as she gazed at the photo was soft and thoughtful, almost sad and introspective. With a frown Grissom leaned forward and twisted his body round to take a look himself.

"It's a good one of Hank," he said, and her smile broadening slightly she looked up at him.

Her eyes shone with an emotion she didn't try to conceal. The breath caught in his throat at the love he saw in those bright brown eyes he so easily lost himself in. What he didn't know because he couldn't see it himself was that her emotion stemmed from what she'd seen reflected back at her on the photograph she'd just taken of him – love and devotion he felt for her and she'd captured on his face, in his eyes, in his soul.

He swallowed and reached out his hand to brush a few strands of hair away from her eyes, and giving her a hesitant smile opened his arm out to her, beckoning her to him. Moving closer, she wrapped her arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder while he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Shifting next to him, Hank lay back down and rested his head on Grissom's lap. Instinctively, Grissom's free hand lifted to pet his beloved pooch as once again he thought how complete and contented he felt.

This closeness, this intimacy, however much welcomed and desired, was new to him, as he knew it was to her. It would no doubt take a little getting used to. They would have to learn to navigate the trappings of going out and working together. There would be times when they would disagree, when they would get on each other's nerves and need a little timeout, but he knew that now he'd allowed himself to feel, allowed himself to love, he could never go back to the way things were between them.

Time stood still for them as they sat there holding each other, each lost in thoughts. Fish, he mused, he'd cook fish for their meal the next day. She liked fish, he remembered from one of the few meals they'd shared when out celebrating with the team, and fish was good for his blood pressure. Maybe salmon, or sea bass with spinach and mushroom.

Oh, how his life had improved in the last two months. Something positive had come out of all the trauma at work and of his health issues. And hopefully his change of lifestyle would keep the former in check. They were going to make this work, he was sure of it. He would do anything for her. He felt so much love for her at that moment that he almost told her. He would, in time.

Instead, he kissed her.

* * *

The end.

* * *

A/N: I've had so much fun writing this, you wouldn't believe, but I think it's a good place to leave it. I have an idea for a oneshot – their first meal at his place – so watch this space. Thanks again for the wonderful response to this story; feedback from readers is the best encouragement a writer can ever get, and your comments never fail to amaze me.


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